Flowers in Spring
by Chaotic Serenity
Summary: Nakago's horrible past with the emperor...and his memories of his mother. (Takes place several years before the series.) Spoilers for Seiran Den and episode 52. PG-13 for adult references. (Specifics within.


_Author's Notes:_ A story that, well, literally popped into my head and had to be written. A moment in time, before the anime, not covered by _Seiran Den_, when Nakago, just for a moment, thinks about his mother.

**Warnings:** Rape references, mention of death, slight gore.

**Spoilers:** Nakago's past and parts of _Seiran Den_.

Obligatory Disclaimer: I own no part of Fushigi Yuugi or any other character. The song below is Nakago's image song "Blue Eyes Blue," translated by AnimeLyrics.com.

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Flowers in Spring

  
_Blue eyes...blue   
kokoro no soko ni furitsumoru   
kizu ga aoi toge ni naru   
Blue eyes...blue   
tatta hitori wo mamoretara...   
nanika ga kawatte-ita darou   
Blue eyes...blue_   
  
Blue eyes...blue.   
The wounds piling up in the bottom of my heart   
become blue thorns.   
Blue eyes...blue.   
What could have changed...   
if I was able to protect only one?   
Blue eyes...blue.   
  
-Furusawa Tooru (Nakago)   
  
He was gazing at the ceiling blankly, both arms resting at his sides, his nude chest rising and falling gently in rhythm with his breathing in the darkness in the room. The emperor's arm was sprawled across his chest, the man's rancid breath hot against his neck.   
Too close. Too warm. He had to escape.   
The slightest movement of his body sent pain screaming through his body, and he fell back, breathless with agony, suddenly wishing that Seiryuu, in all of his immortal power, would simply smote him where he lay.   
He had made the mistake of letting his rage take hold of him today. At seventeen, he still lacked the control he desired when it came to his own emotions, and when another soldier had made an offhand remark on the destruction of the Hin race, he had been quick to silence the man forever. To his chagrin, Nakago had discovered too late that the warrior had been one of Kutou's best; the man's loss had been mourned by many.   
And the emperor? He had made sure that his unruly subject had suffered for his mistake.   
Hissing through clenched teeth, he struggled to pull himself to his feet, biting down the pain as it flashed through his body like fire through a field. He was in a precarious position, wedged between the edge of the bed and the emperor, mere seconds away from expressing his agony in a physical manifestation. If Nakago awakened the emperor, he may very well be forced to "entertain" the monarch once again.   
And for once, he wasn't sure whether or not he could handle it.   
Finally, he managed to slip from Shoukitei's tight grasp and slink away, without a word or incoherent sound uttered to express the anguish and torment that ravaged his body and soul.   
But he deserved this pain. Always would. Any child who would kill his own mother deserved to suffer...   
In the darkness of the room, he searched desperately until he found his clothing, pulling on his pants hastily without heed of the blood that he knew was there, that he knew had been shed that night. Pulled it on hastily because he was afraid to stay in that room alone with that man any longer.   
He trembled in the darkness, clasping his arms about himself as his legs threatened to give out beneath him from fatigue and injury. He hadn't slept well in days, too determined to finish his training early and advance in the military, but he didn't dare sleep when he was with the emperor. Couldn't sleep.   
Because he was afraid of what would happen if he closed his eyes.   
Stumbling over to the window, he grasped the pane, holding tightly so his weight was supported. He had almost fallen in those few short steps, had almost shown weakness in the presence of the emperor. What if he had fallen on his short journey, tumbling to the ground with a cry that would have awakened the emperor and alerted him to his vulnerability? Would Shoukitei have stalked over wearing that same smirk he had years ago when he first took Nakago as his plaything, pausing to leer at him with that same malevolent glee before proceeding to tear him apart once again?   
He couldn't know. Didn't want to know. He choked back a sob, clutching the window frame as his body threatened to collapse.   
Weak. So pathetic was he to feel such emotions, to allow them to take control of his every move. He had to grow stronger, had to teach himself to purge feeling and live without love.   
Because he had destroyed all the love he had ever known with bright blue eyes.   
The window was cracked open slightly, the emperor having twisted it open earlier, claiming that it was far too warm for the two of them to enjoy each other.   
Enjoy.   
He snorted, slowly lowering himself to the window seat. Gingerly, he situated himself on the padded cushion, careful not to reopen wounds and cause further damage. Earlier, he had glanced down at the bed, not knowing quite what he wanted, but knowing full well what to expect, but had turned away immediately at the sight of his own blood staining the sheets. There was always so much blood...   
He sighed wistfully, leaning forward to push the window open further as a cool breeze blew in from the East. Above the darkness and iniquity that was Kutou, night spread like a suffocating blanket over the people, the stars the only illumination next to the small sliver of the moon.   
He need those lights to find his way home.   
Ironic, said the idle thought, that he held such hatred for the darkness. Not always had he treated the night with such loathing and anxiety. Once upon a time, long ago and faded in its memory, he had sat on his mother's lap and pointed out the stars, her hand wrapped around his as he listened to her tell stories of far away lands and everlasting love, of joy and happiness and peace, of everything which they had not themselves.   
And Taria, too, she was there sometimes, also gazing at the stars with brave, wholesome eyes, opening her arms to the Fates and whatever destiny they brought with them. Sometimes she would sleep over, before her mother had come to hate Ayuru with the same passion as the others. Together they would snuggle or wrestle around in bed, giggling over something silly or whispering secrets about the Seiran Lake and its romantic legend until his mother would come stomping in, scolding them for staying up so late.   
And there were also times when he was alone, when the pain and misery of his mistreatment would slam down on him with the full force of a rushing river. Why? Why did everyone hate him? What had he done to deserve such a Fate? He knew now, but then it had all been a huge tidal wave of confusion and emotion. His mother would come to him in those nights, awakened by his sobs, though he knew not of how she heard them, but she always came, led by some mother's instinct to his bedside. She would gather him up in her arms and whisper sweet nothings in his ear or sing softly to him, playing with his hair the same way the spring breeze would toy with hers. Then he would wrap his arms around her and inhale the wonderful scents of spices and flowers and spring and bury his head in the hollow of her neck, whispering to her that he loved her and would always take care of her.   
And then he killed her.   
The breeze that blew through the emperor's window filled his senses, creating an obscene contrast with the memories of the past and present. If he closed his eyes and tried hard enough, he could picture himself back in home of his youth, pillowed on his mother's shoulder while she gently rocked away all of his fears. Or he could be buried under a sheet, wrestling with Taria as his mother's footsteps echoed from behind him, her voice appearing above it all, scolding and loving all at once.   
If only.   
The wind blew harder now, and something wet slapped against his chest, sticking there. Lifting a hand he pulled it away with annoyance, bringing it close for inspection. The white petal danced in his hand, pale and translucent in the dark of night, illuminated by the stars. It fluttered lightly before being caught in the rush of wind once more, sucked into the room where it was followed my many others that swirled with it in an endless, eternal pattern.   
He could see her now, in his mind's eye. Tall and willowy and standing strong among the tornado of blossoms, her blue eyes glinting in the light of the moon, blonde hair loose and whispering around her, looking down at him with that same beautiful smile.   
She would be standing **right** there.   
His fists clenched, and his lips moved in a silent cry.   
_Mother..._   
The wind abruptly stopped, and the vision faded, the white petals scattering and fluttering to the ground.   
_Don't leave me..._   
In the stillness of the night, surrounded by the darkness, Nakago inhaled deeply the fragrance of spring.   
_Forgive me._

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**Final Notes From the Author:**   
  
Another dark Nakago fic by Chao-chan. I'm beginning to notice that a lot of my Seiryuu fics take place at night. -_-;; The effects of malevolent seishi on the mind. Not good at all.   
I wrote this story with the thought in mind that not much focus is placed on Nakago's mother throughout the series. Yes, yes, she is the reason for all his hate and anger and rage, but how many times do we actually see him thinking about her? This story was an attempt to take a look at two dark aspects of Nakago's life: the emperor and his mother's death. Plus, I pulled in a bit of Taria. At seventeen, Nakago, at this point, still has a lot of issues. He has yet to escape the emperor's hold, and it's been only six years since his mother's death by his hands. A dark, unfortunate, and frightening reality.   
A note on the symbolism a bit: I realize that I could have used summer as easily as I could have spring, but Seiryuu, the dragon god, is actually the deity of spring who hails the coming of the harvest season, so I thought I thought it best to use. ^_^   
Thank you for reading!   
  
-Chaotic Serenity 


End file.
